


Only One

by Xipholynx



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xipholynx/pseuds/Xipholynx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Splinter began a new life with four sons but the dangers of living in the sewers of New York include sickness, cold and accidents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only One

Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT. Viacom does.

Genre: Tragedy/Drama

One: Sickness

In the first few months of his new life everything was fine. It was a hard life but he and his new children had suitable food to eat and he was able to keep both himself and the four infant turtles hidden from anyone and everyone.

Almost two months into his new life he decided it was high time that his sons were given names. He loved the beauty of art and decided on Donatello, Leonardo, Michelangelo and Raphael. His four turtle sons had been bestowed with names for a month when all four of them found it convenient to come down with a cold all at the same time.

Michelangelo had so much mucus coming from so many openings on his face that he looked like he was leaking radioactive ooze. Donatello mostly sniffled and cried from his fever which kept him up at night while Raphael simply cried and sneezed and burned a fever so hot he looked like he could melt lead on his shell. Leonardo simply had a cough that first sounded high in his throat before it settled lower in his chest giving Michelangelo a run for his money at coughing up mucus.

It was stressful as he soothed their fevers, their cries and their coughs but with patient and steady care Donatello, Raphael and Michelangelo become healthier after a week of their illnesses. But little Leonardo still had a persistent cough and when his breaths came they seemed to rattle in his lungs. Little Leonardo was miserable and cranky at all times due to his lack of restful sleep. The worst of it all was that Leonardo had stopped eating any food offered to him and wasn't drinking very much fluid anymore.

Splinter knew he was miserable and uncomfortable with his coughing and instead of allowing him to crawl around everywhere he took to carrying him in a makeshift sling along his back for longer and longer periods as Leonardo's energy dwindled more and more with each passing day.  
Exhaustion was deep in his body when Leonardo woke him up with a rattling cough one night and Splinter settled in to keep his awakened son company until they could both fall back asleep again. His other three sons slept through the night as the time passed like winter glue. Splinter sat awake with Leonardo, rocking the pale hoarsely breathing child softly as he whispered quiet stories of legendary heroes from the ancient past. Leonardo stubbornly refused to drink any water or eat any food as he listened. Splinter was rubbing slow circles over his Leonardo's plastron and he kept his eyes locked with his son's own steady gaze with a tired smile. Soon enough Leonardo's eyes slowly closed while his breathing finally slowed down from the frantic rattling breaths he had been taking in all evening.

Splinter hoped that this sign of rest meant that Leonardo was feeling better and moved to brush the back of his sparsely furred hand softly across his son's face. But when he pressed the back of his hand gently across his son's cheek and felt its unnatural coolness his heart squeezed tightly in his chest. A frantic check with his ear pressed to his son's chest confirmed the silence was one not of a light rest but an eternal one. His son was dead in his arms.

Splinter shuddered with horror and felt a grief fill him as he had not felt since his beloved Master Yoshi had been killed. Hot tears bubbled from his eyes and with no move to stop them they rolled through the fur on his cheeks and began to fall like warm raindrops onto the still face of his son. He despaired deep in his soul at his second loss. This almost seemed worse than his master's death because there was no enemy to engage to avenge his own son's death in order to relieve the pain he felt. The only thing he could do was feel the gnawing despair that consumed his spirit.

When the next evening came he had his three remaining sons gathered on his back as he built a pyre as far away from unseen eyes as he could manage under a dock by the bay. His sons squirmed and wiggled against his back as he quietly grieved while the flames consumed the body of his first named son.

Those we have held in our arms for a little while, we hold in our hearts forever.

One

Two: Cold

It was the coldest New Years night that New York had felt in the last decade and Splinter huddled with his three sons beneath a blanket together trying to keep the biting chill away. The electric blankets Splinter had fished out of the dump at the onset of autumn were now faulty and simply pieces of cloth covered plastic now.

He could hear the sound of his each of his son's teeth chattering as they pressed up against him, trying to get warmer. The three two year old toddlers had managed to find snow that had fallen through some drainage grates while he was out searching for more food for them to eat. They were wet and shivering when Splinter returned and he did not know for how long they had been playing in it. They had all been cold to the touch and were shivering violently from their unsupervised activity and he did his best to dry them off and for the next few hours try to stave off their chill.

Shivering from the cold himself Splinter took some time to rotate a violently trembling Michelangelo inward and move Donatello a bit further out since he had stopped shivering and was letting out a big yawn instead.

"Ssleepy Ssplinter," Donatello mumbled, his drowsy voice was slurring up to him as he awkwardly rolled to his side and pressed lightly next to Splinter's leg.

"Sleep then my son. It will be warmer in the morning when the sun comes up," Splinter assured. Donatello smiled blearily up at him and shifted to move between Splinter's legs, curling close to his knees and Splinter didn't protest since he was cushioned from directly touching the ground by a thin sleeping bag beneath them. Raphael pressed closer to Splinter's right side and Michelangelo did the same on the other side, mirroring each other. Surrounded by his now quiet and slumbering sons Splinter himself began to fall into his own sleep.

The shifting of Raphael and Michelangelo as they began to wake up roused Splinter from his own sleep a few hours later. He sat up slowly, gently dislodging them from his side as he did so, and moved his arm up to shake Donatello awake so they could all eat breakfast together. He was startled to feel that Donatello was no longer cushioned between his legs but was down by his feet instead. For some bizarre reason Donatello had also pushed the blanket off of himself sometime during the night causing him to lay outside of its relative warmth.

"Are you not cold Donatello?" Splinter asked wryly as he patted his still son on his shoulder. His son's flesh felt cold and firm and he suddenly felt a jolt of fear sparking through him like a bolt of lightning. Donatello was definitely much to still and cold for his liking. Splinter hurriedly lifted Donatello into his arms and rushed quickly in order to try and rub some heat and life into the still body. But even after almost an hour of constant pushing on Donatello's plastron and breathing warm air into his still lungs there was nothing he could to to get a spark of breath or the flutter of a heartbeat back into his son.

He once again had lost a son and he wept bitterly while his mind tortuously and mercilessly told him it was his own fault his son had died. How could he not have felt his precious boy shift away from him in the night? How could he have not pulled his son close to him when it was so cold out last night? His son, his precious son, was dead.

He clung to Raphael and Michelangelo as a lifeline on the evening of the New Year as he was forced once more to build a pyre for another of his sons. Seeing their father weeping they cried alongside him, not quite grasping that they had lost their brother, but feeling their father's sadness all the same. The only thing crossing into Splinter's mind was the repeated thought that his son was gone forever and it was all his fault.

I feel as though my heart must stop with pain. I miss you so, the darkness will not pale. My darling child, come to me again.

Two

Three: Accident

Michelangelo and Raphael were definitely a handful for Splinter. The two three-year-olds had enough energy to practically power the entirety of New York City for an hour and they were constantly underfoot when they weren't alternatively playing or fighting with each other. In order to focus their energy Splinter had begun to direct them in the movements of basic katas with a mind to begin training them with a focus to begin their training to become ninjas before another year had passed.

Raphael took to the training like a duck to water and while Michelangelo was skilled as well the cheery boy still had problems with focusing for very long on the katas Splinter directed them in. When his two sons weren't playing, squabbling or practicing they were trailing after him, following just behind Splinter's footsteps as he walked through the labyrinth of the sewers. The habit of following him whenever he left their nook into the sewer and water runoff system was fine with him as it made it easier to keep an eye on them.

The walkways were quite manageable until one summer day a sudden thunderstorm poured out of the skies above New York. The thunderstorm caused a surge of water in the deep center part of the drainage system to overflow onto the walkways on either side by about an inch. Splinter stepped surely along the way, hurrying to return to the safety of the nook with his two sons following close behind.

The three were walking in the path of the flow when, unaware to them, a blockage on the surface was removed and a surge of water almost two feet higher than the current water level began to rapidly rush towards them.

Splinter heard it before he saw it coming and turned in order to gather his sons in his arms so they could move up to higher ground when Michelangelo stepped on a slick brick and fell backwards onto his shell. Raphael noticed his brother fall and stooped over to help him stand back up to his feet, the two of them were still close to the ground when the surge of water came and knocked the both of them over and into the center rapids before Splinter had the chance to grab them.

Without a second thought Splinter dove into the rapids to find them and draw them out. The water was murky and filled with a mishmash of debris which put a hamper in his search and rescue mission. He finally spotted Michelangelo first who managed to pop his head out of the water and was crying up a storm. Splinter grabbed his son from the water and searched for a quick place to leave him.

He found a high ledge overlooking the water and as he sat him up there for safekeeping he sternly ordered, "Stay here while I search for your brother."

Michelangelo, despite his shaking and cries, nodded his head to show that he had heard what Splinter had said. Splinter then turned and dove back into the rushing rapids - searching frantically for Raphael in the water below.

Moving along the bottom of the water, his hands methodically searched for Raphael and when he finally felt his fingers brush across a shell he felt relief. He moved to scoop up his son into his arms but when moving to do so he noted that Raphael was stuck on something in the floor. It was a heavy metal grate and Raphael's foot was stuck between two of the bars. With a strength that surprised him Splinted tore at the bar and found himself able to bend the metal apart in order to free Raphael. He pulled his son close and rushed up to the surface.

Splinter pulled himself and Raphael up onto the walkway feeling hope that both his sons had been saved in time. When he spotted the unnatural angle that Raphael's head was in however the hope that he had been feeling was snuffed out cold.

"My son," Splinter pleaded as he moved his suddenly trembling hands towards Raphael's body. With a heart heavy with fear in what he would discover Splinter solemnly touched the side of Raphael's neck. The lack of a pulse shattered Splinter's own heart into pieces. He had saved one son from death only to lose another.

"Raphie is hurt?" Michelangelo's voice asked worriedly from his perch above.

"He is very hurt," Splinter acknowledged with tears running down his face.

"Raphie will get better?" Michelangelo asked hopefully as tears prickled his own eyes.

"He will not be getting better," Splinter said and his heart shattered more at the sound of his last living son crying over the loss of his only brother and friend.

Late that evening Splinter held vigil with Michelangelo at a third evening funeral and as he watched the flames consume his son Splinter, within his own mind, wished that it had been himself that had died that day so he would not be feeling this pain overtaking him once again.

They say memories are golden, well, maybe that is true. I never wanted memories, I only wanted you.

Three

Four: Life

The face only five inches from the baby's own face could've given any Hollywood monster a run for its money. It was a scaly dark teal green, had only one good eye while the other with simply a set of stitches sealing the empty socket shut, and there were a multitude of terrible gouged scars crisscrossing its face. But when it stuck its tongue out and gave the baby a raspberry one could almost see how it could be a bit adorable in its own horrific way.

The baby let out a laugh and Splinter smiled softly into his teacup at the sight of his son happily playing with the baby, also known as April and Casey Jones' son, Adam. The baby who, after almost a year of being out in the world, had only gotten used to Michelangelo's appearance approximately a week prior. Michelangelo was his pride when they trained together. They were no longer master and student but rather two masters who were also father and son. But it was during quiet times like this when Splinter really could see the life his son had in him.

Both Michelangelo's will and body were strong. With all the battles he had to fight on his own they had to be. Splinter was happy that Casey Jones had met his son and that they would more than occasionally provide backup for each other. Fighting alone, the two have individually discovered, was much more dangerous to their own lives than teaming up could be.

But only his son could stand up against enemies like the Shredder, government agencies and the powerful forces that focused on him like homicidal moths to his flame. While he came out of the battles still alive it was not always in one piece. It would be easier on his son if he had assistance or back up during his battles but with every live threatening injury he received Michelangelo simply patched it up as best he could and strove forward with an almost unnerving will to go on.

His other sons had passed away longer than two decades ago but he still felt the echos of their loss every day. Some days it was simply an ache for one of them but on other, much harder times, the loss of all three of them would hit him like a proverbial sledgehammer all at once and put him to a grief that seemed to take weeks to pass on.  
Michelangelo suddenly stood up which roused Splinter out of his own melancholic thoughts.

"I sure hope you two decide to have more kids," Michelangelo said with a smile as he passed Adam back to April. Once he did he brushed back the tails of his red mask back from where they fell over his shoulder. He had dangled them around the infant's face in order to play with him, "this little one would be an awesome big bro. I can tell."

April scoffed and said, "I think this one is enough for now. You aren't the one here at two am when he decides its time for a cry because his daddy's out beating up thugs."

Casey ignored the pointed glare his wife gave to him and said, "I also notice that Uncle Mikey likes to pass off diaper duty every chance he has."

Michelangelo guffawed and as he casually rested his hands behind his head just ahead of the double Ninjato Katana that were sheathed along his back said, "It's an uncles job to have fun and pass the real work back to the parents. I know this and I grew up beneath the street."

April snorted and playfully retorted, "Yeah, yeah. I know for a fact that you and Splinter lived in the basement of a condemned building from when you were four until you were fifteen and only used the sewers for underground travel. Don't pull that I lived in a sewer bit again."

Splinter hated the sewers. If he had been wiser when he was younger he could have prevented everything that had killed his sons. It was only with a great deal of luck and a completely ridiculous level of stubbornness to never give up that had kept Michelangelo going for so many years. His Michelangelo was lucky to outlive his brothers with the crazy adventures he got himself into constantly. Splinter was sure if his brothers had lived Michelangelo wouldn't have made as many mistakes out there or if he had there would have been cover for him.

Michelangelo went back to his chair and grimaced slightly while he absently rubbed a rough spot on his plastron above his heart, jingling the chains of his nunchucks belted to his sides as he did so. He looked over towards his father who was lost in his thoughts as soon he lost himself in his own. He could feel the melancholy coming from his father and knew he was thinking of his brothers and running what ifs through his mind again. This wound above his heart had been given to him by Karai when she had struck him with the hilt of her sword instead of the blade during a battle. It had been meant as a mercy she had said at the time.

'Your brothers would have not have gotten injured like this had they lived. Will you die or only go halfway again?' he remembered the words of his father after his fight with her had ended as he had to self bandage the wound that could have been a death blow. Maybe one day, before his father was gone, he would be able to spend the day with him without the thoughts of children long gone and long perfected in memory coloring their own time together with regrets and what ifs.

Every now and then I think about you. All those times I spent alone here without you. Just give me one more chance I swear to you, I'll give everything.

End

Thank you for taking the time to read this story.


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